


Feelings On a Whim

by TheAkatuskiFoxCat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Romance, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAkatuskiFoxCat/pseuds/TheAkatuskiFoxCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We follow Deidara as he falls out of love and back into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Feelings On A Whim| **Chapter One**

* * *

 

How do you tell someone you don’t love them anymore? What is the best way to go about it?  
Deidara wondered if he should just drop him completely and leave without even the slightest explanation as to why or perhaps he should make an attempt to try to explain. Either way it didn’t make this fact any less true; the bomber didn’t love Sasori anymore.  
Deidara said it to the puppeteer all the time, those three little words. But recently the passion between them had dissipated to the point where he was certain he no longer loved him. Their intimate moments had become one-sided with the clay artist laying there dutifully, his older partner taking all of the enjoyment for himself.

When sex did happen, and it was far and few between them at this point, he regularly thought of other men. Being with them, flirting with them, fucking them. Deidara never dreamed of Sasori anymore and if he did it was usually a nightmare, a reminder from his subconscious of all the shit his danna had put him through.  
The young artist knew long ago that all of this would happen but he was naïve and had put in too much hope, too much faith.

Deidara huffed and leaned back in his chair. He’d been sitting at his desk trying fervently to work on clay sculptures but thoughts of his relationship problems with Sasori were too distracting. Turning his chair outwards he let his eyes lazily scan around his room, looking for anything in that would help to clear his mind. It was a simple room, a bed lining one wall while his desk and dresser lined another. The wall across from his bed contained the door to the bathroom and the wall across from his desk led to the hallway of the Akatuski hideout complex. Bags of clay and sculpting tools littered the small space and various sculptures sat decoratively on makeshift shelves that had been crudely attached to the walls.

  
‘Why am I still with him? I’ve begun to hate nearly everything that geezer does...hm,’ he mused, giving up on finding a distraction.

  
He lifted himself from the chair and walked over to his bed plopping down on it and nestling into the numerous pillows that rested there with him.  
Deidara no longer believed anything the older artist told him and he no longer felt that he could trust him, but he knew (and freely admitted this to himself often) that Sasori was a crutch, something to help the bomber cope. Exactly with what, well…there were many things.  
Life getting too rough to bear? Take a trip to his danna’s room. Argument with that asshole Hidan? Take a trip to his danna’s room.  
The puppeteer was his escape, the young artist’s fantasy land where there are no worries, no responsibilities, and no judgment when he was underneath the older man with his legs spread, body willingly accepting every abuse Sasori could think of. Deidara blushed at that last thought rolling over onto his back. It was true that he felt free around Sasori, but he knew that freedom came at a cost. And that cost had been his heart.

  
Sasori of the Red Sand came with his own list of problems as soon as Deidara and the older man entered their relationship status.  
He was arrogant, ignorant to Deidara’s feelings, lusty, cruel, and just an overall douche. But…he was also cunning, and creative. Though the bomber did not agree with his way of art he knew enough to respect it. Sasori was one of the few people in the world, if not the only one, who understood him. Two artists with their own passions.

  
The young blonde sat up as turned to one of the shelves that hung above his bed. On it, besides his own work, were four miniature puppets that were all hand crafted by the master puppeteer himself. A gift set Sasori had given him one day on a whim. He gingerly reached out and picked up his favorite one out of the bunch and cupped it in his hands. This one resembled his danna the most even though the older man had stated firmly that they had no real resemblance to anyone at the time of the gifting.

  
Deidara ran his thumbs across its red ‘hair’ most likely made from high quality animal wool. The wood itself was sanded down and smooth to the touch. The details, though on such a small figure, were painted with upmost care and precision from the limbs attached with miniscule ball-bearings and screws moved fluidly and without pause on his command to the silk clothes the small puppet was adorned with.  
When he had received them Deidara was captivated by them. But true art, true beauty was fleeting and these gifts proved that to him. As he stared down at the handcrafted piece he no longer felt that same captivation. Over time emotions, memories, and words fade away. Their impact never regaining the same strength they once held the first time around. Just like him and his feelings for Sasori.

  
And yet…the blonde could not convince himself to get rid of the four puppets just like he could not (for some reason that escaped him) get rid of Sasori.  
Placing the doll back to its position on the shelf Deidara’s mind wandered back to an earlier train of thought. The other men he often thought of during his recent intimate times with Sasori. One man always came into plain view above all others. Which was abysmally ironic considering how much he ‘hated’ him too.  
This other man was also cunning and creative but in ways entirely different to his own or Sasori’s. He was strong and handsome beyond belief. All things that did not escape Deidara’s notice from the first time they met. But he had never truly spoken to that man. Pride would not allow it.

  
Deidara’s thoughts flushed away as a deep calling resonated within him. Leader-sama was calling and it was time for a mission. Robotically he donned his necessary uniform and weaponry before making his way to the location Leader-sama had called him too. Inwardly the blonde sighed; this meant he would be spending some quality time with his danna whether or not he wanted to. He closed the door to his room, taking no heed of the forgotten art project on his desk.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We follow Deidara as he falls out of love and back in it.

Feelings On A Whim| **Chapter Two**

* * *

 

Deidara lay comfortably in the water, his head tilted back and resting on the rock behind him. The mission with Sasori had been more stressful than he could have imagined and it had mostly been a morbid reminder of how much he was itching to get away from the older puppet.  
Their mission had been simple enough: act as mercenaries to help take out some enemy camp site. Nothing out of the ordinary. The two of them had done plenty of missions like this before but this time it had been more tedious. What normally would have taken two or three days took almost a week after the two Akatsuki members got stuck in a shoot out, so to speak. Their targets may not have been strong but damn they were persistent.

 

In the end the bomber and the puppeteer were victorious and as an added bonus were paid extra for their troubles.

  
After a few weeks of being back in Ame, Deidara had decided to take advantage of this extra pay to treat himself to a well deserved, and a much needed break at a hot spring. This particular spring was a bit more expensive than most considering that all rooms had their own personal spring that was section off from the others for added privacy, but the young blonde didn’t mind. It had been so long since he had gotten a chance to truly splurge on himself.  
The blonde stared up into the night sky, steam veiling his view of the stars but not enough to shield them from him completely. He took solace in the warm ambience and the low lighting provided by the lanterns stationed around his section of spring. Soft music could be heard in the distance, originating from another part of the resort.

  
As he listened and star gazed his mind began to wander to an incident that happened shortly after he arrived back at the Akatsuki base a few weeks earlier.  
Something he wasn’t sure that he wanted to remember or to forget.

* * *

 

 Two days had passed since his return from his mission. Deidara wandered from his room at the base towards the kitchen. Passing through a maze of hallways and doorways without a second thought to where he was actually heading. His feet simply walking the familiar paths as they had always done.  
As he entered the kitchen his attention finally set itself on the movement in front of him. Dark raven hair and a warm smoky, pine like scent graced his senses.  
Blue eyes widened slightly as they were caught in the gaze of crimson ones.

  
“I..Itachi..?” The young blonde spoke his name with a mixture of confusion and surprise. He had not been expecting to see the Uchiha here. It was rare to see Itachi out of his room whenever he was stationed at this base.

  
He received nothing in response but a blank stare and for a few moments the two of them stood there in awkward silence.  
The older member finally broke the silence. “Something is bothering you.”  
Deidara tilted his head as the statement reached him. He hadn’t felt as though something was bothering him and he felt odd receiving this much attention from the man he felt he loathed.

  
“Of course, yeah. I’m hungry that’s why I came into the kitchen.” The bomber snorted out. He just wanted to get food and get out. The longer he stayed in the Uchiha’s presence the more agitated he was becoming.

  
He moved forward attempting to get to the refrigerator. Itachi slowly moved aside but did not take his intense glare off the younger member.  
“Will you always pretend to hate me?”

  
Deidara stopped mid stride, his hand in the air, held in its place and prevented from coming down to the fridge handle. The blonde snapped his gaze back to the raven haired man. “What? It’s not pretend, yeah, I actually fucking hate you. You.. you think you’re above my art. You don’t even know what true art is, hmm!”

  
He couldn’t help himself. He always attempted to keep a calm cool demeanor around Itachi in order to study him, to get the better of him but it never worked. The damn Uchiha just pissed him off so much.  
Itachi closed his eyes and finally pulled himself away from the bomber’s space. “I never said I was above your art.” He walked off and stopped at the doorway, not bothering to turn around as he added, “And who are you to assume that I know nothing about art or that I cannot appreciate it.”

  
When Itachi had finally gone and he was sure he was alone in the kitchen Deidara allowed himself to breathe again. What the hell had that been? Had the Uchiha actually admitted to appreciating his art? Deidara was unsure. Whatever Itachi had meant by those words had given the blonde butterflies in his stomach. Much like the kind he used to get during his first days in Sasori’s presence.  
Deidara glanced wistfully at the fridge. He no longer seemed to have an appetite.

* * *

 

Letting out a long sigh Deidara allowed his right hand to toy with several strands of hair. He still had no idea what this meant or why it had made him feel so alive to hear Itachi say those words. They had replayed over and over again as the days went on.  
He wanted nothing more than to confront the Uchiha about it. Demand that he explain himself. But how? When? The raven haired man was so elusive; even so the bomber wasn’t even sure he wanted to talk to Itachi.

  
He felt as though he shouldn’t speak with him. As if doing so would make him a betrayer in Sasori’s eyes. Even now, even when he and Sasori truly had nothing left but a sliver of intimacy that was ninety-eight percent once sided, he still thought of the puppeteer. Still yearned for his approval and considered his feelings.  
Deidara sucked his teeth in annoyance and in a quick spur of immaturity he slapped a hand down into the water. Steam and water droplets moved about at the suddenly assault. As he watched his own reflection in the ripples Deidara made the decision final.

  
Fuck the puppeteer and pride be damned. He would confront Itachi, and if it led to other things then so be it. He was his own man, his own person. He did not belong to Sasori anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Thanks for reading my trash c:


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